


You'll be okay

by NeedleandChess



Category: Original Work
Genre: Children, Gen, Growing Up, I Don't Even Know, Imaginary Friends, Inspired By Tumblr, Monsters, POV Second Person, Sad and Happy, Superheroes, Supervillains, Tumblr, fairytale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 06:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10327361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeedleandChess/pseuds/NeedleandChess
Summary: Various stories mainly inspired from tumblr prompts.Mainly featuring monsters that aren't evil in certain circumstances (friendly monster under the bed, an imaginary friend that's forgotten, Dragon takes care of infant, Superhero and Supervillian taking care of a child that sort of thing). All one chapter each. Enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

You sit outside on the swing we used to dance around. The cold wraps around you but you don't feel it, or you're pretending to not. You don't want your friend to leave yet. He's the first one who's ever come over. He likes you. You laugh a lot with him.

Not like me.

It's harder to laugh when you created the joke and the punchline.

I'm just a creation. Thought up out of loneliness, mirrored on the fluffy monster you watched so avidly on TV. Lantern you called me because Lantern I was. Am. Soon was. Will you remember? I feel as though I'm already so faded. I'm here in your bedroom, looking out the window but I'm in your mind too. In both places I'm going. I'm going. I'm going.

Don't leave me. It's so dark.

Jacob has to leave now but that's ok. You're going to his later for a sleepover. He has to clean his room first. Your mother tells you to pack your bag. There's no need of course. It's been packed for the two weeks you've been discussing this. You're so excited Adam. I can't do that anymore. Cowboys and Indians and all are other games. They're childish to you, you who is so grown up. Growing without me.

I'm proud of you, of course I am! We both wished you had a real friend when you were younger we could all play with. Maybe they'd have a friend like me too. Maybe you wouldn't be so sad. We didn't say that bit. That made the loneliness worse. Instead we ate. We ate everything in the fridge and cupboards until you were a marshmallow monster yourself. I was Lantern and you were the smaller me. Back when we linked ourselves together. Back when it was just puppy fat easily worked off. Back when we didn't care how big we were.

Less than a year passed and it mattered. You were a marshmallow looking in on a world that continuously pushed you out. You were smart, a fan of books at an early age. We'd colour and read almost nightly when we could. You were a target even to the youngest of your peers. And then a target to your family too. Only mum ever cared why we ate. Why we didn't want to go to school or get out of the cupboard. Mum. I shouldn't say we. We're not we anymore. You're you. You're blossoming into you. There's nothing left for me. 

Fast forward and you're seven. You're playing video games. I can't play along, no thumbs and no imprint on your reality, but I'm the crowds cheering your name. I'm the concert that plays as you make it past the finish line. I'm the one you're dancing with. You never dance anymore. You're so scared and wrapped up in how they see you that you hide who you are. Dance. Please show the world you can do it.

You're coming inside after saying goodbye to your friend. You're smiling. You're so happy. Moving school was the best thing that ever happened. You go in with mam who's making hot chocolate. She's passing the time so you're not waiting at her feet. You know she is. You don't mind. You try not to bother her. You're both on cloud nine.

Eight. You spent the back half of your seventh year of age learning about obesity. You have a dietitian who plans what you can and can't eat. It's horrible. We're so hungry all the time. We try not to cheat though. You want to be thin. You think this will make them like you.

I'm sorry.

Eight. You're thin. You're not happy but you're alive. You're about to go into school after the weekend at the hospital to show everyone your new body. Baby fat still clings onto you but your more gangly than you were before. Unrecognizable. Changed. You never stopped changing after that.

They didn't know you. Some of them still didn't want to. More guys considered playing with you now.

Your glasses hang crooked on your nose. Your hair a mess of black. You should've been appreciated. They should've seen you. They didn't. The boy with the glasses yet you were the least blind.

You asked the popular boy out during the holidays. Maybe you could play. You were fit enough for tag now. Maybe it'd be fun.

You are harmed. Your nose hurts but your insides hurt more. You don't understand. You're thin. You're not fat. Why don't they like you?

He hits you again and tells you to go away. You oblige. Stinging. You don't get it.

_They won't change._

So young and they won't change. Their future is sad. You are sadder. You don't deserve this. I don't help. I'm not real. I'm a reminder of how alone you are.

I'm sorry.

After your nose is broken, Mam decides it enough. You move house. She moves jobs. There's a new school. Dad still hasn't come back home yet. He hasn't been home since you were born but you think he'll show up one day with a lot of money and a big adventure. We don't pretend that game anymore. You get too sad. Mama gets too sad.

Nine. You're here. You made it. The new house is small. Moms job doesn't pay as well as the last. School you fear. School seems bad. School is a castle like thing, all you've seen is the gate. A large creaking gate. So tall. It can't be good. It's going to be worse, it's gotta be wo-

Your lessons are amazing. The teachers care more. About the learning. About  _you._

The students are amazing. They talk more. They talk to  _you._

There's girls who ask about the lesson and if they can help you find the right rooms. There's guys who want to see you outside so they can play tag. So they can talk.

You have a friend. Real. His names Jacob. You're going to his house.

You're running up the stairs now.

You're going to get your bag and go. You'll come back to this room but you won't be you. The you who is leaving is not the you who will return. And I shall simply be.

Nonexistent.

Gone.

Faded.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I won't see it. I'm sorry I won't see the day you go to the moon. The day you invent the world's greatest invention. The day you slay the Dragon. I won't-

The door creaks open.

_Hello Adam._

You don't see or hear me. You walk past. You get your bag and are about to leave.

_Adam I'm scared. Adam what happens to me? What happens to you?_

What am I? Why are you going?

_Please don't leave._

You do. You're going. The door creaks.

_I'm scared. Adam help._

You don't hear. I try not to cry.

_Goodbye Adam. Goodbye._

Our fairytale ends. But perhaps, in the end it isn't. Perhaps there's an epilogue. Perhaps there's more. You're in the car. You're leaving. You're going.

I'm gone.


	2. Under The Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six year old Charlotte has scared off all the monsters under the bed. The last monster, Kreeping, has come to find out how.

13

It's cold and the day is dragging. Not the way it should be this late in winter, yet the sun lurks on the precipice of the horizon. I'm not excited to go, I am not scared to go, but curiosity clings to me like a fever. 13 of us have been under Charlotte's bed. Six of which have left the business indefinitely. Two more came back hysterically crying. None of them dared say what had happened, no matter how hard they were pressed. None of them could relive the events.

Which left the interesting question, what scares the scarer? Who roars back at the lion?

No one else will take the job. We've had immune kids before, we've had spoiled yowling kids before, we've never had a monster. A mirror of ourselves. I am unafraid, it is important not to be in my line of work. I cannot truthfully say I'm not curious. I wait and watch the sun drown in darkness. When I can wear the night as a cloak, I shall visit No. 11 Mercury Street. It is the matter of waiting that bores me so.

Finally the sun dips into oblivion and the eternity that comes with twilight sweeps the sky. I follow the stars to my new victim. She should be asleep if everything is up to date. Easy. Standard procedure. Give her a nightmare, bring life to the shadows, show part of myself, go home. Standard procedure that failed 13 times before me. The needle of curiosity pines at me again.

I enter the house. Her parents are arguing. This makes things more difficult. It may be that I cannot give her a nightmare. I materialise in her room near the door. Shadow travel is easily done, and adds lighting effect for later in the show. The room is not what I expect.

The room is bare. There is a double bed frame and a single mattress that is shoved up against the wall. Mould violently shudders around the room, it's moisture raining upon the sodden blanket atop the bed and the singular splintered dresser. The dresser is another marvel. It has fallen and has not been rightened. The contents spill out but it is only stubs of crayons. There is no more. The true wonder of the room is of course the girl I've been neglecting. There is a window in the room with no blind or curtain, and upon that rotten windowsill she sits. Her auburn hair is short, as if it's been hacked at by faltering hands. Her skin is a sickly pale, she shivers, her thin frame barely visible in the folds of clothing. She's wearing adult sized jeans that have been rolled up more than 3/4 of their original length, yet they still hang off her. She wears a vest, even though she is obviously cold. It comes clear to me she may not have any other option. The vest is not made for her in mind either.

Charlotte shivers and listens. Just listens.

"It's okay" she whispers. I believe she is talking to herself. I am wrong.

"You can hide under my bed if you're scared. It's where all the other monsters go. It's where I go sometimes too"

I have not revealed myself. I don't know how she knows I'm here. She shouldn't know. She shouldn't at all. I have underestimated her, I do my best to repent of this action immediately.

I do in fact crawl under her bed using the shadows so I am not visible. Then again, I was not visible before.

The noise from downstairs is getting louder. There is more banging. There is more whimpering.

I am not alone under the bed for long.

She lies next to me, smaller stretched out than hunched together. Her lips are blue. Her fingernails are cracked and dirty and currently gripping her ears.

"They'll be okay tomorrow" Charlotte says. I am unsure who she is saying this to.

She shakes from something other than the cold and reaches out to feel for her blanket which lays slightly off the bed. She pulls it through the bed frame.

I touch it with a tentacle and immediately slither off it. It is dripping wet it is cold it is uncomfortable. The material that isn't wet is scratchy and hard. My skin is thicker than hers, what I feel is a fraction of what she does. I do not like what that says about how she finds comfort.

There is an almighty bang. The house shakes. She shakes. I may have too. There is a scream and a shout over the top of it. There is another whimper that follows. The house is not quiet but no more comprehensible words are being spoken.

I feel the scratch upon my tentacle again. She is curled up as best she can, the wet corner of the blanket pressed upon her cheek. The other half she is releasing to me. She pushes it close to me, her eyes closed tight. I take the horrible material. I wish I had a substitute. I wish I could calm her.

I understand why monsters of scared of Charlotte Kansas of No. 11 Mercury Street.

We promote nightmare and fear so that there may be light. We are the minions of darkness, taking one night so you may have a thousand without fear. At one point you always gather the courage to take on your monster and it is a defining moment for a human. We are night sky. We never stay around to see the dawn.

Charlotte Kansas was a dawn. Was a thousand suns. Had monsters worse than we could ever think of and still produced kindness.

Of course Monsters ran in fear of her. She was the scariest thing you could be.

Unafraid.

There is more banging but is an upward patter. The stairs creak beneath a drunk man's wake. I am no longer curious. I am scared. I am very scared.

The door to Charlotte's room swings open and hits the wall, the handle hitting a familiar hole. This has happened before. A lot.

"It's okay" Charlotte whispers, she does not open her eyes. She doesn't move to meet her father.

  _'It's okay_ ' I slither back. I am incapable of human speech, but human are usually good at interpreting when they want the correct truth.

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO IN HERE?" The man says. He does not get a response and so hits the door. There is now a hole.

Charlotte jumps at the noise. I think I do too.

"GET OUT FROM UNDER THERE YOU MISERABLE LITTLE-"

He moves forward to grab the bed frame and upturn it. I do not allow it.

An involuntary tentacle grabs his arm. The rest of my body folds out with it.

They say you shouldn't fight fire with fire and they are correct. A monster and a demon are nearly two halves of the same coin.

Nearly.

A monster lives in dark so there may be light. A demon is utter darkness with no love of light or love at all.

I am a monster.

I protect you Charlotte Kansas.

He is thrown backwards and he is screaming. It is anger not fear. It is anger not fear for both of us.

He howls again as he charges at what he can't see. But I know she can. Children always see more than adults.

As he moves to hit me (sluggish, so sluggish. Why try?) More footsteps echo. A woman appears in the door frame. Her eye bleeds. Her nose bleeds. She is bruised. She is beautiful and broken. She is the Charlotte that didn't escape. I will make sure this doesn't happen again.

The woman only sees her drunken husband swinging at air but her daughter sees all. They hold each other as they have many times before. It's a hard sight to bear.

The man falls. He does not get up. Alcohol and high blood pressure have killed him. I did not do this. I do not regret what has transpired here.

He falls, a snarl on his face. He dies as he lived. An evil bastard.

The mothers face is full of lines and shadows, her veins black lightning. She is a caring mother. Could've been an amazing mother. But she does not have the willpower to let go of her needles. I see a future where she takes sweet and kind Charlotte down the same path. I cannot allow that either. But I cannot force their fates.

 _"Do you wish to come?"_ I curl a tentacle back and forth between us. She understands and nods but she doesn't let go of her mother. I slide a tentacle around the both of them. ' _Protect'_ I mean. She understands again.

She hugs me and her mother looks at air. She has seen too many monsters. She doesn't see me.

Together Charlotte and I take her back to bed. I address her wounds. I then shadow travel them both to a Rehabilitation center, roughly three or four towns away. I alert nurses and doctors and hide with Charlotte. She watches with big round eyes. The nurses are aware of her ill health and take her in immediately.

"Will she be okay?"

_"Yes and healthy when you see her again"_

"I'll see her again?"

_"You can't stay a child forever. One day you will not see me. You will not see the friends you made. Then you will come back. And she will be your home"_

"But why won't I see my friends?"

_"Because you will grow up"_

"I'll miss you"

_"For a short while. You will soon forget"_

"I don't want to forget"

_"We must all forget so that we may move into the future. And when you forget I shall take care of your children and they shall forget too. Time will progress"_

"That's sad"

_"It is life"_

_"Come little one, it is not time for goodbyes yet. It is time for you to meet your monsters"_

"Are they scary?"

_"Are you scared?"_

"No"

_"Then they will be"_

"Why would they be scared of me?"

_"A lions roar can be worse than his bite"_

"I don't bite"

_"You'll understand one day. Let us go"_

"Dawn is pretty"

And for once in the entirety of my life, I had stayed around to see it. And once again I had underestimated Charlotte. The Dawn was not a deadline to be done by. It was pretty.

I was exceptionally glad to have seen it.


End file.
